


Finders, Keepers

by Eliante



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Uncharted 4: A Thief's End, Smut, not overly explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28511436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliante/pseuds/Eliante
Summary: Brazil. The story on how Sam learned a certain phrase in a foreign language. Minor spoilers for Uncharted 4.
Relationships: Samuel Drake/Reader
Kudos: 4





	Finders, Keepers

**Author's Note:**

> The idea was instantly in my head upon finishing Uncharted 4 the second time, I just had to.

The afternoon sun shines on the beautifully aligned apples at the counter of the market stand in Rio. You know this area well, the market is not far off from your home and you had just considered to get a few things to prepare dinner but had involuntarily stopped at the fruit vendor’s stand, the temptation of the shiny red apples too strong.

As you take an apple to inspect it, you hear a man shouting in the very back of the market, and it sounds nothing like the vendors’ peaceful shouting. Desperately he calls out for the man running ahead to stop, but it proves useless.  
You turn around, the apple still in your hand, trying to find out where the rumble and shouting is coming from as you see a man rushing between the stands, knocking several over - as if on purpose - in the process. By the look of his fashion choice and pale skin, you can tell he must be a foreigner. He runs into your direction, and you startle a little, turn your back on the stand, apple set back down, and face him. You see the minor signs of mistreatments on his face and realize he must have been beaten up. He looks into your eyes for a mere second, then you both hear the shouting and approaching of the local man from before again.

“Quick” you say and point towards the stand, hinting at the empty space behind it, the vendor gone for the time being. “Hide”  
His gaze comes to the spot you are pointing to, then he raises a finger, gesturing as he looks back at you.  
“Good thinking” he replies and within a split second is hidden safely behind it. You turn your attention back to the shouting and see a man running into the market section opening, swearing as he barely makes it over the thrown over stalls that now act as barricades. As he slows down and stops, checking around at the stalls, you are quick to react and point away from you, down the other side of the market, telling him in your shared native language that the stranger on the run went that way. First confused, he finally nods and turns around, running off to where you pointed.  
“Why, that was--” the stranger starts, coming forth from behind the wooden crate of the stand.  
“Come, follow me” you interrupt him and grab his arm in preparation to walk further, away from the market but in the opposite direction of where you send the Brazilian man off to. Only for a moment the foreigner watches you, hesitating, but with a nod he decides to run where you lead him.

A few turns and a fair bit of a slow run later, you end up in a dark side alley.  
“Now what?” he asks, still out of breath from his previous running, hands settled on his thighs as he leans over. “You’re not with them, are you?”  
“With whom?” you ask curiously, catching your breath, then leaning with your back against the wall of the building, facing him. He comes up to stand straight again, a heavy sigh parting from his lips before his breathing normalizes again.  
“Never mind.” He waves it off with his hand, letting out another deep breath. “I am Sam, by the way. Sorry to have gotten you into this.”  
His hand stretches out to meet yours for a handshake, you chuckle before you take it and shake his hand, then introduce yourself with your name.  
“Sam. That sounds North-American” you remark, pushing yourself off the wall. Your interest is piqued, if only for the foreignness.  
“Well, technically it’s Samuel.” he admits.  
“Oh, _Samuel_ is common here. It means the name of God, doesn’t it?”  
“Someone has been attending their bible studies I see” he replies with a grin. “Anyway, thank you. I will have to--”  
“Why was he after you?” you ask before he has the chance to bid you farewell. He freezes, then waves it off again.  
“Long story. Believe me, you don’t wanna get involved.” he answers.  
“You’re badly beaten up.”  
“It’s nothing... it's just scratches compared to--” He grows silent as you approach him dangerously close and let a finger trace the side of his face. He is young, maybe in his mid or late twenties, dark eyes showing a hint of amber when the sun rays expose them.  
“I have some ice in my apartment, and something to treat your wounds. I can patch you up there.” you suggest. He stares at you and it takes him a moment to reply.  
“I didn’t know that was an option.” he says. A smile follows. “Gladly, then. Lead the way.”

The casual conversation between you in English lasts the whole way to your place. All 24 stairs up to your apartment you are left wondering what he means by being here on “business”.  
“What sort of business would that be?” you ask when unlocking the door and entering. He closes the door behind you before he answers.  
“Just... business. Work. As I said, the less you know the better.” he answers while stepping further inside, watching you reach out for the cooling pad in the freezer and placing it on the counter. As you pass him by, you advice him to sit in the living room, wash your hands and get the disinfecting treatment and lotion from the bathroom.

While he presses the cooling pad to one side of his face, you sit beside him on the couch, disinfecting the few open cuts.  
“You’re not a thief, are you?” you ask him quietly chuckling, your leg leaned casually against his as you sit so close to him. He does not seem to mind or at least he is not flinching.  
“Do I look like a thief to you?” he replies with a weak smile, then hisses at the sensation of disinfectant on his wounds.  
“Oh, I don’t know.” you answer again with a chuckle.  
“Your English is very good by the way.” he comments.  
“And you don’t have any idea of my language it seems.” you answer with a grin, biting your lip at your own remark. He does not reply, and as you look into his eyes, you realize his gaze is stuck on you.

“Maybe it’s time you learn something useful to keep you out of trouble” you suggest, your eyes back on the wounds you treat.  
“Oh yeah? What would that be?” He sets the cooling pad down, so that you have full access to his face.  
“Quando seu marido volta para casa?”  
“What does that mean?” Sam asks curiously.  
“How long until your husband gets home?” you translate.  
Sam laughs out quietly. His gaze comes back onto you while his head is tilted in a questioning manner.  
“You think that's what got me into trouble?”  
“That or you stole something.” you state, your gaze lifted to watch his eyes in reaction. He looks at you and chuckles but remains silent until you continue with the patting on his face, layering a hint of ointment on the disinfected parts.  
“What was that? Quando seu marido ...?”  
“... volta para casa” you nod and repeat.  
“Quando seu marido volta para casa?” he says after you.  
“Yes, good.” you praise him but he grins.  
“I was asking you that.” he explains in a serious tone and you suddenly stop in your movements. You set the cotton pads and treatment onto the coffee table and look at him.

“You’re done?” he asks as no further reaction comes from you.  
“No” you reply and climb on top of him, straddling him. With your hands cupping his face, it only takes him a second to register what is happening - then his arms are around your waist, your lips are on his and you are kissing him slowly, but longingly.  
“This is your idea of treating my wounds?” he rasps quietly while your lips barely part from his. You look down at him, your hand running through his hair as you nod.  
“I am taking good care of you, no?” you ask with a smile, and he smiles back. His hand comes to cup one of your breasts.  
“What kind of woman are you? Letting a stranger into your house” he asks looking up at you with an uninterrupted gaze. You move on top of him, your hips brushing against the fabric of his pants. His hands come to your behind to hold onto you, then one hand slaps your ass.  
“I’ve asked you something” he reminds you in a sensual whisper, his eyebrows raised. Only his barely visible smile reveals the enjoyment he takes from the situation. You do not answer, only bite your lip as his hands start squeezing your ass. Your lips meet his again and you lose yourself, grinding your hips against the bulge in his pants as if your life depends on it.

In a matter of seconds his hands are running up your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your dress and fingers come past the seam of your underwear to tease you. Instantly you become wet, then you get up and tug at his shirt, leading him first towards your bedroom and then out of his clothes.  
Swiftly your own dress is pulled up by him, you sit on the bed and lie down as he crawls on top of you. You become fully undressed, and so does he - your hands run along his upper body and reach down to his already hardened length.  
From the drawer nearby you take what you need, then he is already inside you. You throw your head back against the pillows as you feel him stretching you. He is vigorous, lively - by the way he holds onto your hips you can tell he is eager for the release, and equally eager to take you there.

“You want to come?” he breathes while on top of you, his slow yet deep thrusts never fading.  
“Yes, I want to-- ah--” you answer, and with it come in ceaseless moaning. A few moments after you, he sighs deeply and comes as well, then lies down beside you on the bed.  
“You still don’t want to tell me when your husband gets home?” he asks.  
“Well, you don’t want to tell me what you took from that man” you counter and sit up, slowly crawling on top of him, your hips aligning with his. “His wife or his things?”  
“You’re the kind that always needs to be in control, aren’t you?” Sam chuckles, one arm crossed behind his head as he looks up at you.  
“You’re very much the same.” you answer.  
“Takes one to know one?” Sam asks and you nod with a grin.  
“Exactly that.” Your hands run over his chest casually and you think of how you need to remember that expression. “But I think... you can stay for a while.”


End file.
